


Down in Flames

by Danudane



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Non-Consensual, Psychological Torture, Sadistic Roth, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danudane/pseuds/Danudane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roth's plan to destroy Starrick's factory takes a turn when Jacob gets involved. Roth is not pleased at all, and decides to make this very clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Stemming from an idea I had a few days ago, in which Jacob's attempt to rescue the kids could have easily ended up a lot worse- for him. This is a 'what-if' scenario, in which Roth takes Jacob captive.  
> *All dialogue in the first chapter only is pulled straight from the game, and therefore is copyrighted to Ubisoft. Any further dialogue- chapter two and on- is original*)

It was a change of pace for Jacob, working with Roth as he had been. At the back of his mind Jacob knew Roth was not the sort of ilk he should be associating with, but his rebellious nature had gotten the better of him. Evie had scolded him again and again- sounding just like their father, she had- about being more careful. It seemed every step of the way she had opposed his methods, hell, she had not even wanted him to start the Rooks. 

Roth, on the other hand, had shown him nothing but approval. It was just the sort of organized chaos that Jacob relished. In fact, it made him all the more happy to know he was tearing increasingly large holes in the web that was Starrick’s hold over London. And why not have a little fun doing so?

Whether it was sabotaging supplies, or kidnapping influential gang leaders, Roth and Jacob seemed to have a good thing going. 

And so, he had returned when Roth called upon him once more. 

“Ah! This way, my dear, I have something to show you!” Roth seemed rather ecstatic to divulge his next plan of attack against Starrick. 

Jacob did not hesitate to follow along, and climbed up onto the carriage seat beside the crime lord.   
He clicked and whipped the reigns lightly at the horse’s back, signaling for the mare to walk. 

“Off on another adventure we go!” Roth’s upbeat tone did not reveal his sinister plans just yet. 

“Where are we going?” Jacob questioned, still eager to know what Roth had in mind. 

“One of Starrick’s workshops, where they build weapons for his army.” The man explained. “When the world is full of nasty things, we must tear those things apart.” Roth finished. 

The explanation was a bit ironic, coming from a crime lord, but Jacob never the less found himself agreeing with it. 

It wasn’t more than a few minutes later that they pulled up to their destination, and Roth wasted no time leaving the carriage behind to climb a ladder fixed to the side of a nearby building. 

Jacob followed close behind once more, making it to the rooftop soon after Roth did. 

“This workshop is one of Starrick’s. Set the dynamite, and let’s blow it to atoms. Together.” Roth instructed, though this time seemed content on letting Jacob do all the work. 

Jacob, however, made no complaint. He certainly could have been given a harder task, even if stealth was not his specialty. He snuck around, moving crates of the explosives to certain areas around the outside of the workshop. A few of the Blighters he was unable to avoid completely, but managed to knock them unconscious before they were able to signal an alarm or call for help. 

Within minutes all the crates were set, and Jacob returned to Roth’s side up on the rooftop.   
“All rigged up.” Jacob looked and sounded pleased with himself, again looking towards the workshop in question. 

“Perfect! Let’s put our plan into action…Stand back!” Roth turned and leaned over the edge of the roof, to signal his lackeys to light the dynamite. 

“Wait!” Jacob called out, his eyes going wide as he saw a group of child laborers entering the building. 

“Whatever for?” Roth paused, only for a moment. 

“There are children in there!” Jacob pointed to the workshop, hoping that Roth just had not seen the kids. He was soon proven wrong. 

“Jacob, my dear, Starrick uses child labor to manufacture goods. We must put an end to his production line.” Roth replied, and it was now clear he had no qualms killing children if it meant furthering his plans. 

“But not like this.” Jacob did not want to believe the man he’d gotten along so well with could suddenly behave so coldheartedly. Killing other criminals or Templars was one thing, but innocent children?

“Why not? I can do whatever I damn well please! ... Soon you will understand what it is to be free, as I am.” Roth lashed out at first, before his ranting took a surprisingly calmer tone.   
And then it changed again. Roth leaned over the side of the building, and motioned to his men. “Light them up, boys!” He intended to go through with his revenge against Starrick, no matter who got hurt. 

“NO!” Jacob cried out, thinking less about how his partnership with Roth was over, and concentrating fully on stopping the kids from ending up as casualties in all of this mess.   
He parkoured down from the rooftop, his kukri at the ready, and he sank the blade deep into the back of one of Roth’s men. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Roth’s anger was clear, as he glared down at the younger man. 

“We’re not playing games any more, Roth!” Jacob stared back up at the crime lord, his body language showing defiance before he took off towards the workshop. 

“No. We’re not.” Roth sounded disappointed-hurt, even- at the sudden change of plans. Jacob had betrayed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Without hesitating, Jacob charged towards the building in question. He had not seen the crates of dynamite had been lit after all, until it was too late. Before he could skid to a halt and take cover, the crates blew, sending Jacob flying backwards and landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

His ears were ringing, his vision blurry, and Jacob could have sworn he was just run over by a train with how hard it seemed to catch his breath. Still, with the workshop soon becoming engulfed in flames, he knew he could not wait around for his senses to return. Perhaps it was simply adrenaline, but he suddenly gained the strength he needed to stand back up and scramble into the building. Jacob knew he would only have a couple minutes to save the children inside.  
He jumped in through a hole in the brick wall- where the window had been only moments before. Inside, the room was already ablaze. Several of the children appeared unconscious on the floor- God, he hoped they were only unconscious- as he attempted to take a headcount. Seven kids, five standing and two down. Within seconds the smoke and heat was almost overpowering, and it was no surprise the kids that were up were already panicking- screaming and crying out for help. 

Jacob coughed repeatedly before managing to bark out a few orders. “Over here!” He called to them, hoping his presence would be enough. Through the smoke he found the back door, and kicked it open. He was grateful Roth’s men had not had the foresight to bar the door.  
“This way, hurry!” He called again, quickly ushering the children out and away from the fire that threatened to take them. 

Jacob only allowed himself a breath of fresh air from outside before rushing back in to save the downed children. Every second he was inside made his chest burn from, and Jacob was sure his lungs would turn to ash before he escaped. The flames licked at his coattails as he maneuvered through the room- the bloody place was going to come down on top of them, if he did not hurry.  
Still, in his current condition he could only carry one kid out at a time, and with the first safely outside, he went back in for the second. Wheezing coughs threatened to double him over, but Jacob knew he could not live with himself if he let any of these kids die.  
He cradled the young girl in his arms as he found her, and pulled her away from the ever-hungry flames.  
Holding her close against his chest, he ducked underneath a fallen beam and made his way back outside not a moment too soon. His legs nearly buckled under him as he reached the courtyard, the roar of the fire only growing louder behind him.  
Jacob put the girl down as gently as his weakening arms could, and was simply grateful to find her still breathing. 

Just when he thought he could sit and rest, one of the kids ran up to him. “S-sir, sir! What about Colin?” The young boy pulled at Jacob’s singed sleeves. 

Jacob’s eyes went wide as his gaze snapped back to the workshop. “Bloody hell-” He cursed and rushed back into the blaze a final time. The smoke was black and thick as soot as it billowed towards him, threatening to blind him. He was thankful now more than ever for his second sight, and even as his eyes watered he made out the blurry golden shape of the last child.  
Jacob staggered towards the boy, sprawled out on floor on the far side of the room.  
The heat was overwhelming now, burning his lungs with each breath he took. As soon as he was close enough, he grabbed a fistful of Colin’s clothes and pulled the boy to him, using his own body as a shield when debris fell on and around them. It was a wooden beam in particular almost took Jacob down, thudding against the back of his shoulder before rolling off. The pain bloomed rapidly but Jacob knew if he stopped now neither of them would make it out. 

A final glance upwards reassured Jacob of the way out, and with the last bit of strength he possessed he stumbled out. Tucking Colin against him as he reeled and swayed unsteadily, he turned so that his shoulder would take the brunt of the fall. 

The ground greeted him quicker than he expected, and already his vision was failing him. It was now all too clear that he’d breathed in too much smoke, and his lungs were now trying to expel it while taking fresh air in at the same time. For all his body’s effort all it managed was a weak but frantic wheezing cough. 

The children he saved had now gathered around him, hovering over him as they pulled Colin from his grasp. “E-eve..get Evie.” He tried to tell them, but was unsure if it came out as understandable, as they looked at each other and then away, before backing up. “E..vie..” 

“Oh no, my dear. Your sister cannot help you now.” Roth’s all too familiar voice grated out. “Not after all the trouble you’ve caused me.” 

Jacob’s last vision was of Roth appearing over him, the crime lord’s expression concerning only because he did not have one. Anything after that was lost to him, as his head dropped back down and he lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A short chapter, right before things really pick up.)

He hardly remembered anything after that. Still blurry were his glimpses of his surroundings as he faded in and out of consciousness. He saw the inside of a carriage, the scarred arms of one of Roth’s gang as they drug him through a doorway, and finally a dark room. Roth’s voice was ever present, but in his state of delirium Jacob made no sense of the man’s words.   
What he wouldn’t give to hear Evie’s voice instead…  
Before he could imagine the scolding she would give him, the world went dark once more. 

It must have been hours before he woke up, and only then was greeted with a thudding headache and stiff shoulder. Jacob groaned in discomfort, before his lungs seemed to remember that he’d just escaped from a fire. A short coughing spell prompted him to raise a hand to his mouth, but his movement was stopped short by a heavy weight on one wrist- and then on the other. Thick iron manacles were bound by a single length of chain that ran through a metal loop bolted to the floor.   
He did his best to focus- bloody hell, his headache made it hard- and tested his bonds. He tugged and twisted his wrists, doing well to hide the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He’d gotten out of worse situations plenty of times…hadn’t he?  
A final tug was stopped short as his bruised shoulder protested at the movement, and he allowed himself a show of frustration that culminated with another curse.   
In a sudden moment of clarity he was able to refocus, and attempted to take stock of what he still had and where he was.   
Jacob had been left only in his breeches, as any other clothing might have concealed a blade. As if this wasn’t humiliating enough, it appeared he’d been locked inside of a cage as well, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkly lit room. 

It was a single candle that supplied the measly amount of light, and Jacob found himself shifting towards it, as if it might reveal some way of escape. 

“A right sodding mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time…” Jacob muttered, emulating Evie’s exact tone before sighing. His sister would never have allowed herself to be captured and chained up like a dog. 

“Quite a mess indeed, my dear.” 

Jacob could swear he felt his blood run cold as he turned to face the origin of the voice. He blinked, forcing his eagle vision even though his head still hurt. The color red bloomed and bled from the darkest corner of the room, but Jacob did not need to see Roth to imagine the expression on the man’s face. The crime lord’s tone had made it plenty clear what his current state of mind was.   
Jacob sat unmoving inside the cage, unwilling to show any fear or further weakness. A thought came to him, as unsettling as it was, that Roth had likely been watching him sleep this entire time. It did not take much to assume why he had not been killed already. 

“Hmm, nothing to say? It was you who betrayed me, after all. I expected some sort of defense.” Vitriol dripped from his words like poison. Roth rounded the cage and stepped in front of the candle, his silhouette as dark as the aura he was currently projecting. 

“You tried to kill those children. You didn’t care who got hurt.” Jacob replied, subtly testing his bonds once more. He knew he was going to have to defend himself sooner or later. Roth was not one to let punishment go unfulfilled. 

“BORING, Jacob! You’ve become oh so boring!” Roth roared, slamming a long and slender object harshly on the stone floor. “We had something special, we did. Could’ve taken London for ourselves, after I strangled the life out of Starrick with my bare hands-” The fabric of his gloves tightened and threatened to rip as he clenched his fists and shook them. 

Jacob attempted to ignore Roth’s ranting. Instead he recognized the object as his own cane sword- the slightest glint of a metal eagle head visible in the dark. He doubted Roth would hesitate to use it. At this point it was only a matter of time.   
“You’ve gone mad, Roth.” Jacob was quite sure this was not a recent development, but at the moment it was the only rebuttal he came up with. 

“My dear you have not seen madness.” Roth stepped towards the cage threateningly. “Not yet.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's note: I just wanted to thank everyone for the comments you guys left! I had no idea this was going to get so much attention. I really love hearing back from you guys, it makes my day =u= )

Jacob shifted now, defensively. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to get up, fight back, and get out. Flight was not an option, as the chain only granted him limited movement. Fighting back would be difficult- he would have to be fast. He grabbed a hold of the chain in each hand, ready to use it as leverage should he need to. 

Roth gave a small noise of disappointment and shook his head. “It is common knowledge that animals are most dangerous when caged…” He trailed off, and tapped the iron head of the cane sword against the cage bars. “…and so, I think we’ll give you a little something to calm down, hmm?” His tone could only be described as diabolical at this point, and Roth fed off the growing discomfort that Jacob showed.  
He lingered for a moment, before moving to what must have been the door and knocked on it twice. “Come on in, boys. It’s time to teach our dear Jacob a lesson he won’t soon forget.” The crime lord chuckled darkly, and moved aside only enough to let three burly gangsters past him. A fourth man handed Roth something, and then left the room. 

Jacob tensed again, worried most about what Roth now held. A glint of what appeared to be a thin cylinder of metal and glass only had his mind racing further. A syringe that contained who knew what was in the madman’s hands. The grating of metal that was the cage door opening instantly refocused the Assassin’s attention. His grip tightened further on the chain that bound him to the floor. It was now or never, and he did not plan on giving up without one hell of a struggle. 

“I was hoping you’d put on a show, my boy. Unfortunately for you, so were they.” Roth glanced from Jacob to the three men. “Go easy on him. I still want to play with him a bit.” 

With a grunt the first gang member approached Jacob, hands outstretched as if to catch a hold of him.  
Jacob was ready, and indeed was able to use the chain as leverage, leaning back just enough to avoid being caught. He feinted to the left, away from the other two men, and lunged forward to head-butt the first man in the stomach. The gangster doubled over and stumbled back, making way for the others to step in.  
“Well, come on then you bloody bastards!” Jacob challenged them, fighting however he could even though he knew he would not win this.  
He dodged one punch, and attempted to trip the man who threw it, only to be greeted by the third gangster’s fist. He hit sent him reeling and he toppled back, his shoulder protesting greatly at the abuse.  
Jacob did not stop after the second punch, or the third. It was a fourth that split his lower lip, and he spat the blood at one of the gangster’s faces as his struggle continued.  
Eventually the three attackers wore him down, and with a sharp kick to Jacob’s ribs he collapsed on the ground. His chest heaved with exhaustion, and the cold stone floor might even have been welcome if meeting it had not signaled his defeat.  
Blood dripped slowly from multiple wounds on his face, and his bruised torso only made it hurt more to breathe. He could not help to think he would have lasted longer if not having inhaled so much smoke from the workshop fire.  
Jacob raised an arm to protect his already battered face as one of Roth’s gang approached him again. He expected another fist, but it never came. 

“Now, I think he’s had enough.” Roth finally spoke up, having watched the whole fight intently from just outside the cage. 

“You’re a coward, Roth…” Jacob panted, and attempted to pick himself up off the ground. 

“Ah, my dear, you could not be further from the truth.” Maxwell laughed again. “I do not fear anything. You, on the other hand, fear all too much.” He moved towards the entrance of the cage and stepped inside, once more hovering over the downed Assassin. 

“You wish.” Jacob spat again, aiming for Roth’s shoes but missing. He stared up at the crime lord with continued defiance. He even attempted a kick at the madman, but his efforts were cut short by the gang members’ interference. 

It was now that Roth produced the syringe, and gauged Jacob’s reaction. It was subtle, but Assassin’s eyes did not lie.  
“Your sister will come looking for you, but it will be far too late. And then, I’ll end her too…ever so slowly.” The dark and twisted laugh came again. 

“You won’t touch her-” Jacob growled, beginning to struggle again. 

“And you are in no position to make demands!” Maxwell suddenly snapped, his shout filling the room.  
“Hold him down.” The order came immediately after his outburst, but in a far more controlled tone. 

Jacob did not make it easy for them, but against the three men and an ever growing heavier chain, he did not last long.  
Only seconds after he was shoved roughly against the ground and pinned, he felt a sharp prick near the crook of his arm. Roth was so close that Jacob could smell the man, and it made his stomach turn. If there was a way to smell of insanity, Roth had achieved it. Jacob attempted to make sense of it when the world itself began to flip upside down. His heart jumped against his ribs and beat furiously in his chest, as if Jacob had just run for miles. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, mixing with the blood of his wounds and streaking down his face. He gasped repeatedly, his eyes wide as he swore he was falling through thin air. It was impossible- he was still pinned to the ground and unmoving, but his mind could not be convinced. The vertigo enveloped his senses and in response his stomach churned, and he wretched violently. It was all he could do to turn his head away from the mess, but it proved to only make things worse. A clear view of Roth and the candle-light behind him had shadows stretching and contorting in all shapes and directions. Roth’s face went hollow as a skeleton, and then glimmered multiple shades of red before returning to normal- if it could be called that. 

Jacob gasped again, screwing his eyes shut as he became unable to do anything but groan and cry out at the whirling sensation and devilish hallucinations.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry, I know you guys were expecting to see what happened next, but now seemed like a good time to switch to Evie. The next chapter will go back to Jacob.)

Evie leaned over her desk as she read through some documents, but found herself becoming increasingly more restless. Every so often she would pause to glance over her shoulder, expecting Jacob to come strolling up to her with a smug look on his face. But he did not, and she realized she had not seen him for hours. Ironically, it was not her brother she was more worried about, but the people that got in the way of whatever escapade he’d disappeared on. 

She rubbed at her temple and let out a small sigh in frustration, marking her place on the page before folding up the document and hiding it away. Her research would have to wait until after her suspicions and worries were placated. 

Suddenly there were footsteps behind her, and she found herself turning around quickly, ready to lecture Jacob about his absence. Instead she was surprised to find Henry, who instinctively gripped the supplies he was carrying a bit tighter, as if startled by the sudden movement. 

“Oh, Henry, it’s just you…” Evie relaxed, but only partially. It was clear her mind was still distracted. 

“Ah, yes, only me.” He looked a bit flustered but his gaze fell away as he moved to set the supplies down on her desk. Eagle feather quills for writing, ink, more parchment- the usual. 

“I did not mean it like that.” Evie apologized, shaking her head. “My brother has been gone for nearly a day and I fear for-”

“-His safety. Say no more, Ms. Frye. I understand.” Henry replied, concern still visible behind his smile. 

“Well… his, and the city’s.” Evie corrected him, but nodded. As often as Jacob mucked things up, he had rarely ever gotten himself hurt in the process. It was usually everything else that came crumbling down around him. 

Henry could not deny there was some truth to Evie’s words. As much as he respected the both of them for pooling their efforts in taking back London, Jacob was far more reckless. Subtlety in any sense of the word seemed to be lost on him completely. 

In that same minute the train began to slow, chugging along at a snail’s pace before the brakes halted the movement all together.  
It was just a scheduled stop at one of the several train stations throughout the city, nothing out of the ordinary…

Not until Nigel came tromping in with a young boy in his arms. A recently rescued child laborer, by the looks of him. His clothes were singed black here and there, and his face was covered in soot. He looked exhausted, but was still awake. 

“Ms. Evie, mam, he ran all the way here, and said something about Jacob-” Nigel sat the boy down on the sofa. 

Both Henry and Evie simultaneously moved forward to check over the boy, soon determining he was not injured or worse for the wear aside from a reoccurring cough. 

Henry knelt down in front of the boy, who was still visibly shaken from whatever had happened. He quickly concluded there had been a fire, but that did not explain what Jacob had to do with this.  
“What’s your name, hmm?” Henry smiled warmly at the boy, despite his worry. 

“T-Thomas, sir.” He mumbled, between coughs. 

“Very good. Can you tell us what happened?” Henry went on, conveying a sense of urgency without rushing Thomas. 

Evie kneeled as well, a hand on Henry’s shoulder. Had the situation been different she would have commended him for being so good with children, but the whereabouts of her brother took priority over anything else. 

“A-a man saved me and some other kids from a fire. He went back in to find my friend Colin. They barely got out in time…” Thomas shifted uneasily. 

Henry felt Evie’s grip tighten on his shoulder, and he glanced to her before turning back to Thomas.  
“And then what happened?” Henry reminded himself to be patient, but the tension was growing. 

“He said to find someone called Evie.” Thomas fidgeted, looking uncomfortable as if he remembered something else. 

“I’m Evie. Did he say anything else?” She stood, ready to go running off to find Jacob at the next word, but her plans were stopped cold at Thomas’ added bit of information. 

“Another man took him away. Had a big nasty scar on the side of his face…” Thomas traced a jagged line from his temple to nearly his chin. 

Evie had already begun to pace back and forth. Maxwell Roth had her brother. She had not met the man but his reputation preceded him. A notorious crime lord and, as most described him, unpredictable and dangerous. 

“…Maxwell Roth.” Henry’s voice was low and his tone serious. The fact that the man was no longer a Templar brought him little comfort at this point. He’d seen the damage the man could do. 

Evie tensed visibly, not wanting to waste any more time. She looked to Thomas, hoping he might provide a final clue. “Do you know where they went? Did you see anything else?” 

Thomas was only able to tell her where the workshop had been, and the direction they left. Anything more was lost to him. “They had a carriage, and left too quick. I couldn’t follow.” He answered, before coughing once more. 

“Rest now, Thomas. Nigel will look after you. You did very well.” Henry stood as well, after reassuring the boy. The situation was worse than he thought. Roth could be holding Jacob anywhere in the city…if he was holding him at all. There was no telling what the man would do to him, especially if Jacob had done something to wrong him. 

Evie did a quick once over of her gear, and then turned to leave the train. “I’m going after him.” 

Henry caught the movement and attempted to stop her, reaching out and grabbing a hold of her sleeve.  
“Roth is extremely dangerous. We need a plan.” He attempted to appeal to her with logic. 

“We don’t have time for a plan!” Evie snapped, her normal approach forgone with the thought of her brother’s life on the line. “Do not try to stop me, Henry.” She pulled away from him. 

“I am not trying to stop you. But you cannot run in blindly. You do not even know where they took him.” Henry’s concern outweighed his frustration at Evie’s sudden show of recklessness. 

“I know where to start. And if anything that I’ve heard about Roth is true, he’ll find me.” Her hand settled on the grip of her kukri and she squeezed it tightly, her knuckles turning white at the strain. 

“I’m going to find my brother.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Once again, I thank everyone who's been leaving comments! It's always great to hear feedback, especially since this is my first time writing anything Jacob (and Roth) related. On a side note, I hope Roth seems in character for this chapter. You'd think writing someone as unpredictable as he is would be easy, but it's actually harder?)

Jacob writhed continuously on the floor, pulling the chain taunt as he struggled against the drug that played havoc with his mind. He was still seeing things- disturbing hallucinations that centered mostly around Roth and the candle light behind him. What was a dull glow one moment quickly became a fiery inferno that spread up the walls and across the ceiling. It was just like the fire in the workshop, and Jacob could swear he felt the scorching heat once more. 

Roth’s scarred visage appeared above him again, and the man seemed to tower over him like a giant.  
His face faded into a hollow skull for a second time, but took longer to shift back.  
“I do apologize. It seems I’ve given you a bit too much.” Roth’s voice grated like steel against stone, and his laugh was no more pleasant.  
The assassin at his feet could not contain the cries of discomfort and confusion that plagued him. The former Templar, however, relished every second of it. 

Jacob attempted to pull away from the other man, swiping weakly at the air in a vain attempt to dispel the illusions. “What did you do to me?!” Jacob panted, closing his eyes again to try and stop the hellish visions.

Roth’s sadistic nature clearly knew no bounds, as he crouched back down to pat Jacob’s bruise cheek.  
“A little something special just for you, my dear. Though it is a fairly new concoction, it’s appeared to work even better than I thought!” He laughed again, and only seemed to enjoy the fact that Jacob was still resisting. The younger man had pulled away from Roth’s touch as best he could, in another attempt to regain some control.  
“Now, now, you’ve gone and dirtied that handsome face of yours.” Roth grabbed a hold of Jacob’s lower face and held it still as he wiped a bit of blood from his lower lip. 

The sudden change in demeanor baffled Jacob, but by no means did it assure him he’d be spared from more punishment.  
He opened his eyes for a moment, noticing only now that the dizzying feeling had finally started to dull.  
The hallucinations were still rampant though, and Jacob had no idea when they would stop.  
They did not vanish completely when he closed his eyes, but it was his only alternative. Jacob only wished it did not leave him feeling even more vulnerable. When he felt Roth’s gloved hand slide a little further down the side of his jaw, he flinched and jerked away. 

“Hold still!” Roth instantly became hostile once more, this time grabbing a hold of Jacob’s throat and pinning him down. 

“Ghhk-” Jacob gagged and choked briefly at the pressure against his windpipe, but soon realized his air supply hadn’t entirely been cut off. He allowed a dark thought to momentarily enter his mind- he almost hoped Roth would have ended things right then and there.  
No, Jacob thought. He would not die like this. If or when he lost all hope of escape, then Roth would die along with him. The ex-Templar’s free hand wiping more blood from his face eventually refocused his attention. 

“There we are.” Roth seemed quite pleased with himself, even though Jacob still looked worse for the wear. The previously white handkerchief he used was now stained with half dried blood, and Roth held it above the Assassin’s face. 

“I wonder what your sister would think, if I sent this to her.” Roth gave a rather murderous smirk, and tucked the cloth into the front pocket of his coat. “Or maybe a more substantial parting gift…” He shifted slightly, but did not release any pressure on Jacob’s neck. “Perhaps I could send her a limb. Or an ear. Or an eye!” Roth grew more excited with the list of possibilities, and continued. “Did I ever tell you, my dear? You do have beautiful eyes.” He reached to force one of Jacob’s eyelids open, but the younger man kept them tightly closed. 

“Open them!” Roth roared, his grip on Jacob’s neck being plenty enough leverage to pull his head up off the ground and slam it back down again. 

Unfortunately for Jacob the pain at the back of his skull had the opposite effect of what Maxwell wanted, and a swift backhand to his already bruised cheek followed soon after. A gasp escaped him, only to barely make it past the hold Roth had on his neck. 

Roth’s behavior no longer showed any consistency- if it had ever- and he seemed increasingly unable to control himself around Jacob. “Now look what you went and made me do.” He chided, as he prodded roughly at Jacob’s face. 

It was another moment before Maxwell stopped, looked towards the door, and got up. The gang members who’d roughed Jacob up had left a good while ago, knowing better than to interrupt their boss when he was…personally attending to someone. The last man who’d gotten in Roth’s way had lost an eye because of it. 

Roth up and left the cage, momentarily abandoning Jacob to retrieve something outside the room. 

Jacob took a few moments to catch his breath, but did not even try to relax. He knew his current state of mind would not allow it. Between his hallucinations still causing him to see shadows and Roth threatening to dismember him, there was no point. What he had to do was free himself from the iron manacles. All the strain of pulling at them had left his wrists raw and bloody, but Jacob was left contemplating something far more drastic. He would break his hands to escape, if he had to. Now might be his only chance to do so, as he had been left unattended.  
Jacob steeled himself, first trying one last time to pull his hands free. His drugged mind had him seeing the skin peeling away from his wrists, exposing bones and ligaments alike. For a moment he was unable to tell if it was really happening or not- it certainly felt like it.  
Another blink had him only slightly comforted, as it had been an illusion after all. Still, a cry of pain and frustration betrayed him as he failed to pull free. 

He was just about to break his thumb in a final attempt, when the door to the room swung open. In came Roth, holding what Jacob assumed was another syringe full of whatever he’d been injected with before. Inwardly he cursed, and desperately tried to come up with something that might buy him more time. “Wait.” Jacob huffed as he managed to sit up, though he was unsteady at best. 

“What for?” Maxwell glared at Jacob, his tone revealing no patience whatsoever. 

“I need water.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and though it was true, there was no guarantee Roth would buy it. Or even entertain the idea to begin with. 

Maxwell paused long enough to seemingly consider the idea. He’d been about to slam the door behind him when he changed his mind, and called outside for some water.  
“Our guest needs something to drink.” He added, a smirk returning to his face. 

Jacob did not like the tone of Roth’s voice, nor the fact that he did not disappear outside the door once again. Instead Roth stood just inside the doorway, as one of the gang members came through it with a bucket in his hands. Before Jacob could react the cold water came flying through the bars and drenched him from head to toe. The freezing water tore a gasp from his sore throat, but in some stroke of mercy had him seeing just a little clearer. It had a sobering effect, and there were only a few sentient shadows left in his periphery. 

“You really must learn to be more specific, my dear.” Roth laughed briefly. “Now, let’s say we try something a little different?” He readied the syringe and moved towards Jacob like some deranged doctor.


	7. Author's Note

(( I wanted to apologize for the lack of updates. Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and today I had an 11 hour shift at work because of Black Friday (aka where all retail stores stay open longer and have big sales). I'm just exhausted. But things will be back to normal very soon, so I should update again within the next day or two. Thanks again for following along, and all the feedback! ))


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I wanted to apologize to everyone for the wait! I know it's been way too long since I updated this, but life's been hectic. Anyways, here's the long awaited chapter- Warning for non-con, but nothing too graphic. ))

Jacob knew Roth would not likely be delayed for long, but he made an attempt to stall him anyways.  
“Why are you doing this? Why not just kill me?” Jacob winced as he shifted his weight, and looked up at Roth with a slightly swollen face. 

“The same reason a cat plays with its prey, my dear.” Roth paused. “Why not have a little fun with it before it expires?” He elaborated, grinning like a devil. 

“The real enemy here is Starrick. I thought you wanted to go after him.” Jacob could not deny he was indeed the trapped bird in this situation. As much as he hated to admit it, it was not going to be an easy escape no matter how he looked at it. 

“Oh, and I will. But no one betrays me and gets away with it.” Roth’s quieter tone was far more intimidating than his outbursts. Suddenly he came at Jacob, ready to drug him again. 

Jacob waited until the last possible second to react, reaching up and grabbing Roth’s arm, directing the syringe away and past him. He used Roth’s momentum against him, but before he could swing a leg out to kick the man’s feet out from under him, Maxwell turned and backhanded him with the head of the cane sword. 

Jacob saw stars and dropped flat on his back, before shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the daze that made him helpless.  
Through his patchy vision he made out Roth coming at him again, and instinctively raised his arm in defense.  
Once more, the sharp prick of a needle signaled the futility of his attempting to fight back. It was only partly relieving that he did not feel the same effects of the first injection. 

Instead it was a slow but steady progression of lethargy that overtook him. It seemed no matter how hard Jacob tried to force himself to stay tense and alert, his whole body continued to relax. Within several frustrating minutes, it took all he had just to keep his head up.  
“Wha…what is this…?” Jacob slurred, feeling tired and groggy. 

“My dear boy, even you should have figured that out. Starrick’s Soothing Syrup. I may hate the man, but this creation in particular has served useful.” Roth chuckled, and waited until it was clear Jacob could no longer fight back. There was something increasingly arousing about Jacob being ever so helpless. 

Jacob tugged weakly at the chain, finding Roth’s demeanor more worrisome now than before.  
Uneasy as he was, any attempt at actually moving away proved useless. For his effort he felt the head of the cane sword press against his neck, the cold metal sending shivers through him. 

When Roth was satisfied that the assassin would no longer be able to resist, he threw away the syringe before kneeling down beside Jacob.  
With the head of the cane sword pinning the younger man down, Roth felt his way down Jacob’s exposed chest and torso. He seemed fascinated by the light scattering of old scars, his gloved fingers finding and tracing the most notable ones. 

Maxwell was just as curious about how Jacob had acquired these as he wished he’d been there to cause them. He found them beautiful, even, a mark that proved someone’s winning a struggle to survive.  
His train of thought was broken by a mumble and a slight shiver from the Assassin.  
“What was that, my dear?” Repeating the term of endearment despite how he felt about Jacob’s betrayal. 

“Ngh.” Jacob shivered, whether from the cold or in disgust- though likely a bit of both- and managed to tell him again. “Don’t touch me.” He managed, though his tone was weak as an effect of the syrup. He sounded far less intimidating than he wanted to, and Roth seemed to agree wholeheartedly. 

“AHA.” Roth let out a bark of a laugh, indeed seemingly quite amused at Jacob’s demand. “Not even like this?” His hand slid lower and cupped around the font of the younger man’s trousers, soon beginning to rub there firmly. With Jacob unable to resist, Roth had every intention of getting him off, whether or not the Assassin was a willing participant. 

Jacob’s body betrayed him twice. The first was with a rather distraught sound that escaped him, showing his desperation to escape. The second- even worse- was his body slowly starting to react, in which he could do nothing to stop. He had tried to convince himself he would not let Roth take any more pleasure out of torturing him as he was, but as the crime lord continued to stroke him he felt the beginnings of arousal. ‘No. Not with him. Not like this.’ Jacob pleaded inwardly, but to no avail. This was because of the Soothing Syrup, he convinced himself…mostly. It had to be. He wanted no part of this, and once more he felt his stomach turn at the possibility of Roth taking it further. 

Roth, on the other hand, took immense enjoyment out of the encounter. He watched the subtle changes that played across Jacob’s face, little expressions that turned from disgust, to an unintended blush, and then back to a forced frown. The assassin’s breath grew heavier and the tendons in his neck tightened as he strained to make an escape that was impossible.  
“Having fun yet, darling?” Roth’s tone was far from the honey coated smoothness he intended, but he got his point across none the less. His gloved hand abandoned the front of Jacob’s trousers just long enough to relocate down the front of them.

“Damn y-you…Roth...” Jacob’s voice wavered and his breath hitched as he was interrupted once more, this time by Maxwell’s hand now inside his pants.  
“J-just…end this already...” He panted, groaning weakly in disapproval and trying to turn away. Unfortunately, inaction once again reminded him that none of his body wanted to cooperate. Well, nothing except his fucking prick. 

“So soon? It’s clear you haven’t appreciated anything I’ve done for you.” Roth growled back, though in his continued effort to rub Jacob off he was only becoming aroused as well. He took sick pleasure in knowing his own version of ‘ending this’ was very different from what Jacob had meant.  
And so he pulled the cane sword’s handle away from the younger man’s neck, replacing the cold metal with his warm mouth. He breathed hot and heavy against Jacob’s skin and nuzzled it none too gently, before inhaling deeply to memorize his scent. A series of possessive kisses followed, trailing down Jacob’s neck and throat. 

“No. Stop.” Jacob choked back a frustrated cry as Roth dominated him without any sense of shame.  
He cursed again, hating himself that feelings of arousal continued to grow, slowly nearing a desperate need for release. 

“Quiet!” He shouted, at first, breath heavy with lust before his tone softened. “I thought I told you to relax.” He’d shifted closer when there was a sudden disruption from outside the room. He paused, disgruntled at the noise.  
It went quiet for a moment, before more ruckus came from outside the door. Roth’s temper instantly rose again and he pulled away, leaving Jacob in a sweaty heap on the floor. 

Jacob gasped in what was only a partial relief, screwing his eyes shut again as he tried to rid himself of the feeling of violation and disgust. There was a sudden wave of fatigue that rolled over him, nearly pulling him into unconsciousness at that very moment. His mind was soon losing the battle from all the stress and Jacob had little intention of holding out against it. 

“I told you I did not want to be interrupted!” Roth left Jacob’s cage and opened the door to the other room, threatening whoever was making the noise. 

A Blighter stumbled in through the doorway, nearly colliding into Roth, before taking another swig from a large bottle of ale. The man was clearly drunk, and did not even seem to register the severity of his mistake. “S-sorry, Boss.” The man’s slurred speech barely made it from his lips before he felt the white hot fury of Roth as a blade to the neck. 

Roth had fumed silently for mere seconds before he unsheathed the cane sword and buried the blade deep into the side of the Blighter’s neck. 

The thug gurgled and choked on his own blood, much of which was pouring out the side of his neck- the blade having severed a major artery. Soon he was on the floor, already halfway dead by the time he hit it. The frantic clawing at his wound did nothing to stem the flow, and soon the gang member had painted the stone floor with his own blood. The last breath left him, one hand outstretched as if pleading for help from the same man that had just stabbed him. 

“Fool!” As angry as Roth was, the man’s death had not placated him- as blood had soaked into his gloves and made a mess of things. Even worse, Jacob seemed to have missed the display of his anger and- in his absence- had fallen asleep. He made a mental note to destroy the remaining supply of Soothing Syrup. 

With Jacob unlikely to stay awake for any further fun, Roth showed the first- and only- hint of mercy that the Assassin had seen since being caught.  
In the meantime, he himself had grown stir crazy. He had other business to attend to, and though he had not wanted to leave his captive, Jacob was not going anywhere any time soon.  
With the dead Blighter’s blood still pooling across the floor, Roth did not give him a second thought and left the building.


	9. Author's Note

((Aha, I thought you bet it was another update~   
The next one will be much sooner than the last, I promise. I've already gotten a start on it, so expect it within the next few days.   
That said, I wanted to thank everyone again for the flood of comments and feedback! It really helps to know you guys have liked this fic so much. 

Unfortunately, it's likely coming to a close. Poor Jacob has had a rough time. I've planned for two more chapters, and that will probably be the end of this one.   
But don't worry, I've gotten about halfway through a whump fic based on the Jack the Ripper DLC, so that will be uploaded after I finish this one.

Thanks again for the hits/kudos/comments! <3 ))


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This is likely the second to last chapter, but I'll let you guys know more with the next one. I just really needed Evie to find poor Jacob.))

Jacob was woken by unintelligible shouts, his exhausted mind registering them only as muffled noises before they slowly became clearer. And with consciousness came the realization he was lying face down in something cold and tacky. As soon as his eyes adjusted they went wide, and Jacob instantly jerked upward and away from the carnage, his stomach churning and threatening to empty itself again. He’d been lying in the puddle of a dead man’s blood, and it dripped slowly from the side of his face.  
An uncontrollable shiver took him, and he shifted as far away from the pool as he could. Thanks to the lingering effects of the Soothing Syrup, however, neither of his movements were as controlled as he would have liked, and ended up more as an uncoordinated flop backwards. It drove him mad, not being able to do anything in his own defense.  
What’s more, he only now noticed the remaining Blighters glaring at him from a few feet away. They swayed, tipsy as if drunk, but still managed to stand there and accuse him of Roth’s own actions. 

“Oi, you git! I asked you a question! How’d you manage to kill Johnny?” One of the Blighters spoke up, not even pausing to think it might have been their boss. 

“Wasn’t me, mate. Ask Roth.” Jacob answered, trying desperately to rub the blood of his face, but only succeeded in smearing it around. 

“Unlucky for you, Boss man isn’t around right now to care.” Another of the men spoke up, as he cracked his knuckles. 

Jacob did not like where this was going. The three of them were drunk, and likely to overdo any punishment they had planned. What was- ironically- worse, Roth was not here to call them off.  
There was no telling how long he’d been out, or when the madman would be back.  
As if the situation couldn’t get any ‘better’, Jacob was still limited to sluggish movements at best. He stood no chance if the Blighters came at him.

And moments later, they did. A barrage of fists and heavy booted feat came at him, but this time there was nothing he could do to defend himself.  
A rasping cry in agony tore from his throat as a particularly heavy kick found his already bruised sides, and he was sure he’d felt a rib or two break at that very moment. 

It seemed all he could do was close his eyes and brace himself as the beating continued, though in such a vulnerable position it wasn’t much. 

The Drunken Blighters spared him no mercy, and did not stop until he was lying in a bloody, crumpled heap on the floor.  
Despite his best efforts a wounded whimper escaped him, once more his body pushed past its limits. Inwardly he begged for this to end, for he knew doing so out loud would only bring him more ridicule.  
Some Assassin he was, falling in with this lot. If he made it out of this alive- something that was looking less and less likely- he would never forgive himself for trusting Roth in the first place. He only wished he could hear his sister calling him out for such foolish behavior. ‘I’m sorry, Evie.’ 

The world went black once more.

Evie and Henry had searched frantically for hours. Henry had pooled his resources and incited all the contacts he could- on such short notice- to help find Jacob.  
It seemed like every time they found a new lead, it ended up being a small group of Blighters that had purposefully led them off course.  
Evie cursed with each new failure, knowing they were running out of time. She could feel it.  
“Just hold on, Jacob…” She gripped the reigns tighter, and spurred the carriage horse on. Had Evie not been the more observant one, she would have sworn they were going in circles, with how frustrating the hunt had been.  
Henry sat beside Evie, giving advice where he could. Other times it was encouragement, but the city wide hunt had so far proven much more daunting than imagined. “We will find him, Evie.” He assured her, with a hand on her shoulder. If he knew anything about the Fryes it was that they were indomitable by nature. He just hoped Jacob would prove him right.  
Still, it only meant anything if they found him sooner than later. And, in that sense, they were starting to lose hope. 

Just when they thought the trail had gone cold again, there was finally a breakthrough. A child laborer from one of the farther out branches of the network that Clara had built waved them down from the corner of the street. “Miss Frye!” He waved frantically, which prompted Evie to skid the carriage to a halt. 

Evie was off the driver’s seat in an instant, and hurried to the boy. She ushered him back towards the carriage and more out of sight of any prying Blighter eyes. “What is it? Do you have news of Jacob?” She asked, her tone far more urgent then she would usually let on. 

“Not Mr. Jacob, mam, but I saw the ugly boss of the Blighters- Mr. Roth? He was leavin’ a place just down the block.” The boy pointed down towards the end of the street, where rows of houses and buildings were quickly being claimed by the slums. The outsides were beginning to wear and fall apart in neglect, and looked otherwise abandoned. It seemed a perfect place for a gang to carry out unspeakable acts in what was otherwise uninterrupted privacy. 

“Show me.” She urged the boy, if only to save time, but when he refused to go any closer towards the buildings in question, she did not push him any further. Instead she used her eagle vision, and hurried towards the one that showed the most clues. 

Henry did not even pause to thank the boy, or send him away- the child would be fine as long as he stayed out of sight for a little while. Instead, he took off after Evie, knowing that in such dire situations she was as prone to rush into things just as her brother would. Indeed, they had not given much thought to a plan, other than find Jacob and get him out, whatever the cost. 

Inside the house, Evie had paused. Her hidden blade was at the ready, a silver of silver glint in the dim light. She listened for footsteps or talking, and froze when she heard several laughs erupt from…not upstairs, but down below them. She whipped her head around, and then motioned to Henry that there was a room beneath them. 

With his keen senses he’d caught the noise as well, but now they had to find the passageway down. A tightness formed in his chest. He was not prepared to kill, even with the hidden blade strapped to his arm. But for Evie, he would find a way.  
If the noises were coming from Blighters, however, Henry doubted he’d even get more than a glare in at them before Evie slaughtered them.  
And so, he let her lead the way, in through another room and then down a nearly hidden set of stairs, tucked behind a wall. They crept down, neither of them making a single sound before they were able to scope out the room. 

Evie’s eagle vision found her targets immediately, painting the three Blighters red. Her keen senses soon picked up multiple signs of…something. Bottles of ale, beer, and other alcohol were strewn about haphazardly. Several crates were partially smashed in, and along with the stench of three burly men and their drink, she could have sworn she smelt blood.

With the three Blighters oblivious to their presence- their backs turned and their attentions too focused on each other and their drinks- they joked about what they had done to Jacob, seemingly quite pleased with themselves.  
“I ‘ope we didn’t kill ‘im! Boss would put our lights out too!” One man slurred, the drink obviously affecting him more than the other two.

They had no idea of the wrath that awaited them. 

Before Henry could hold her back- and not that he would have been able to at this point- Evie flew towards the men, her hidden blade burying deep into the man’s side several times. Bloody stab wounds bloomed wide across the fabric of his shirt, and with a gasp he fell to the floor, howling in pain.  
The second man soon followed with a sickening crunch, this time with a broken jaw from the blow Evie’s elbow had delivered.  
The third Blighter barely had time to try and uncoordinated swing with his beer bottle, but he’d failed miserably.  
Henry had seen Evie fight before, but never like this. She fought as if possessed, with a speed and precision unlike anything he’d seen before. 

Evie had ducked underneath the swing as if child’s play, and sheathed her hidden blade in the Blighter’s eye socket, killing him within seconds.  
As soon as the thug had fallen off her blade, she glanced towards Henry before moving towards the adjacent room- to which the door was nearly closed. It was now or never. If Jacob was not here, she doubted they would ever find him. 

“Evie, wait-” Henry finally pulled himself from the brief stupor he’d fallen into, and reached for Evie’s sleeve. “Let me go first.” He offered, knowing there was no guarantee Jacob would be in the room, or even alive at this point. 

“No, Henry. I must do this.” Evie’s eyes went an icy cold as she steeled herself for what she might find. 

Any further protest would be a moot point, and Henry simply nodded, following her inside. 

The room was barely lit, a single candle that was nearing the end of its wick was flickering weakly in the room. Still, it was enough to see the pool of blood that had spread across the floor, and for an instant Evie thought she was too late. Her eyes went wide as she found Jacob’s figure inside the cage, stripped to his trousers and chained to the floor. 

The smell of gore churned Henry’s stomach. It was a scent he would never get used to, of that he was sure. He brought the back of his hand up to his face in an attempt to stifle the smell, but it did little.  
It was the sight of Jacob tied to the floor inside a cage- like an animal- that refocused his attention. 

Evie was at Jacob’s side in a moment, sick at the thought of what all could have happened while he was held here.  
She felt even worse that she was glad to hear his rattled breathing, for at this point it was the only thing that proved he was still alive. Even in the dim light she could see the numerous bruises scattered across his back and sides. Blood ran from his nose, a cut on his brow, and there was plenty of it smeared over one side of his face, but she was soon able to determine the pool of it was not his. From the drag marks that led away from it, it was likely a fourth Blighter that had not been in the right place at the right time. Jacob’s cane sword was discarded a few feet away, and though she would normally be trying to figure out how things happened, she banished the thought from her mind. 

She had one objective, to get her brother out. Evie called Henry over, and as gently as they could they turned Jacob onto his side. More bruising, but there were no other major wounds she could see. In truth it was not a relief. She knew as well as any doctor that internal bleeding was just as damaging- if not more so- than external. Besides, he was not free just yet. 

“Jacob…” Her tone and touch softened, the polar opposite of what it had been just moments ago. She gently picked his head up off the floor, in some effort to make him more comfortable.  
“Jacob, it’s me. You need to wake up, brother.” She urged him to open his eyes, and when he did, she swore he looked right through her. 

“Evie…” He forced her name out with a grimace, for everything hurt now that he was awake. 

“We’re getting you out of here.” She managed a smile, if only to try and comfort him once more.  
There was still one issue- the manacles that had kept Jacob chained to the floor. Where a few shots with her pistol likely would have done the trick, she did not want to attract further attention, with Jacob being in the state he was.  
Instead, she chose to pick the locks. It took a couple of minutes, the dark room not aiding her in her efforts, but soon enough she succeeding regardless. The manacles fell off his wrists with a clank, and Evie heard her brother release a small sigh in relief. 

With all her emotions, she could not bring herself to be mad at Jacob, not while he was as injured as he was. There would be plenty of time for blame later, if at all. 

In the meantime Henry had slipped his arms under Jacob’s battered body, carefully pulling him up off the ground. Even with his precautions, a pained moan escaped Jacob, the new position putting more pressure on his broken ribs. In fact, even the smallest intake of air was a lancing pain. 

“Let me help-”Evie nearly demanded, but Henry motioned forward with a flick of his head. 

“The less we jostle him around, the better. I will carry him out, you watch for danger.” He suggested, but in a way that offered no room for compromise on the subject.

Evie hesitantly agreed, leading them past the bodies of the dead Blighters, up the stairs, and back out of the building. She’d had the hindsight to grab Jacob’s discarded clothing and weapons on the way out.  
It was by some miracle, Evie would later admit, that they did not encounter any further resistance. 

Henry had taken the driver’s seat this time, offering to get them back to the train so Evie could stay in the carriage with her brother.  
Meanwhile, Jacob was not having an easy time by any means, and his discomfort only grew as he was moved around. Even the carriage ride proved agony, despite their best efforts.  
Still, he clung to Evie weakly, fearing that if he let go he might somehow end up back in the cell and at Roth’s mercy. The thought made him shudder, though his actual movement was still limited. 

As soon as he was sure he was actually free and this was not some dream, he began to slowly drift back to sleep. 

Evie had encouraged Jacob to stay awake, and did everything but shake him to rouse him back to consciousness. “Jacob, just hold out a bit longer, we need to get you looked at…” She had tried to explain, but her words were lost to him. It was clear they had done more than just beat him, and if the pin pricks on his arms were any indication, he’d likely been drugged.  
She vowed to wring Roth’s neck the next time she saw him.


End file.
